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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593707">The Incurable Romantic and the Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeizzy/pseuds/leeizzy'>leeizzy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All and More [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(eh not really tho), Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Fanart, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love Language, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Military Homophobia, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Secret Relationship, That Time In Malta, Xenophobia, classical Arabic poetry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:53:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,970</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeizzy/pseuds/leeizzy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Many times Nicky was being romantic throughout the years<br/>A collection of pencil sketches and arts and comics and ficlets. About The incurable romantic, Yusuf Al-Kaysani. And his moon, Nicolò di Genova, or the closeted romantic one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All and More [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>     On the battlefields, sometimes, Yusuf would wonder how he’d die. By an arrow? By an enemy’s sword? Being trampled by a horse? Burned alive with oil? And when warfare hadn’t using horses or oil anymore, being dogpiled with dead bodies? Blowing himself up with rusty bullets... Or perhaps just an old-fashioned execution at dawn.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     Nicky had stopped calling him ‘Yusuf’ on the battlefields for quite some time. And Joe had tried not to hold his Nicolò’s shaking hands. Because if they spent many sleepless nights next to each other, he murmured quiet sweet nothing and wrapped around the love of his life under a thin blanket, in the freezing darkness of the dead, they weren’t lovers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     A French drunk with a suspicious amount of booze. A man with a frame of a woman. An Arab. An Italian. An Arab who’s sitting close to an Italian than acceptable for men. In the trenches, people turned their eyes away from everything. In no man’s land, everybody’s just another gun holder. Or when night fell, paranoia, and misery, and disease infestations drowned the hearts, people would look, words would cut the silence. People, perhaps, would drag him and Nicky away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     It’s better than the old body mutilation or imprisonment, to be frank. Still. Yusuf hates dying like that. He hates people killing his Nicolò that way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     Oh but how can he hide them forever alone to somewhere... Nicky’s too kind for this world. Too kind to let Joe beg him to. Too kind to let Joe regret afterward for not helping. And Joe knows he can’t ever deny it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     So sometimes, when the morning comes, Joe wakes up to the love of his life, knowing they’re safe in each other’s arm, ever the romantic he’s sure of that, Nicky would bring them to Malta. Just the two of them.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nicky and Joe pretended to be double agents for opposite sides. Joe being dramatic about shaving. And Nicky feeling bad about his 'military sheen', about being a spy for the what felt like the Nazis.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so sorry but please consider me giving up. I know it’s kinda meh and doesn’t look impressive It’s a load ton of things that I had to struggle with for the last 14ish days. My god. I HATE DRAWING CLOTHES and TINY FACES and PERSPECTIVE and INTERIOR DESIGN. TT____TT</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p><p>     For Joe, there’s something quite indescribable about being a spy. Doing things you don’t do. Not getting to do what you want to do. Being away from people you love. Opposite to what people may think, spycraft is incredibly boring, and if there’s excitement in it, something will turn terribly wrong.</p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>     “Just admit it. I know you hate it.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “I know you hate it, too. But at least you look beautiful in white and gold, habibi.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     For Joe, there wasn’t many thing more painful than for months and years, having to wake up early every morning to shave and tame his hair, so when the night felt, he got to wash the gel out while dreaming about being in bed with the love of his life. Ah... Yes! The love of his life. The moon when he’s lost and the warmth in the cold. A mysterious mister N(something). Smith, who’s currently working for the opposite side. whom no-one had seen at this part of the world since the beginning of the war.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “Just say it. I know you don’t like it.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “Nonsense! It’s not what you are. And I love you no matter what your hair looks like, amore mio.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     To be frank, Joe is not going to comment whether the bad-boy-look is a good look on his Nicky. No. Almost 1000 years and the silly former priest still couldn’t miss a chance to get being guilty about the past. He knows his Nicky, and his Nicky is still beautiful even if he’s bald. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     The point he’s trying to make is. There’s just something ineffable, about them being spies. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     Joe remembers those moments, every single one of them, when he saw his ocean eyes looked back at him from across the room as if they were strangers. All the gentle brush of the hand like dragonfly on a pond. All the secret meeting. And stolen kisses in dark corners where things could turn terribly wrong. Nicky franticly ruffled up his hair, while Joe peeled off their unfamiliar clothing like they were going mad and the world would be on fire. He knew that look. The way Nicholas touched his face, combed back Joseph’s wild curls in sorrow like he’s missing something. Joe wore that expression when they broke apart to take a breath. He smelled like him. He tasted like him. They sounded the same. But in those moments, it’s not his Nicky.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “I miss you, my love.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “Oh I miss you, my Yusuf. I miss you and your fluffy beard and your fluffy bed head. I miss you when I’m awake and in my dream. I miss your night sky eyes full of stars. I miss your charcoal smudged hands. I miss you like I can’t even remember myself.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     There something’s so heartbreaking, whenever Joe and Nicky have to be apart like this. Joe couldn’t helped but wondered, in a world where they’re not who they are, in the vast universes in which they could have been all kinds of enemies, would they find each other? Or when they die, will they find the other in their after life.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you can't see Yusuf in this then please just google 'Marwan Kenzari Emre Ogan'.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another part of the story where Nicky and Joe pretended to be double agents for opposite sides.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p><p>     There was a time Joe used to wonder, ‘does his Nicky have a thing for being rescued?’</p><p>     Okay, yes. He must admit, it’s not like he didn’t enjoy playing strangers with his thousand-year-lover occasionally. And no. It wasn’t the way it sounds. They said it already. There’s no fun or excitement about being spies.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>     The thing is, sometimes Joe just needs to say it, Nicky truly has a power to be the moon in the darkest nights.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     The first time thing went wrong, they were so close to shooting Nicky. One morning Mr. Joseph Jones was informed that the order to execute Nicholas Smith had been carried out by their top sniper at a certain discreet meeting. And Joe just lost his mind. It’s part of the game, they’re aware. The fact that they couldn’t die made the whole incident sound even sillier. Nicky knew how to deal with these kinds of complication. There’s no need for Joe to go in gun blazing and blow up both of their covers like an idiot. Still... Nobody needed a reminder of how terrible things could turn if somebody discovered that they cannot die. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     Everyone was quiet that one time. The mission took a lot more effort than they had planned. But there’s no harsh words from Andy. Even drunk Booker let them be after they’d reached the safehouse. Joe and Nicky didn’t exactly talk about it. Then the change creeped up before he could realize...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “It’s about a façade and gaining trust”, or so they’d reasoned for each other. Joe wouldn’t say he minded him slitting the assassin’s throat before they’d had the chance to put poison in Nicky’s coffee, or Nicky pulling off the blindfold over Joe’s eyes, revealing a bunch of dead soldiers around them, whom had tied Joe up and were about to turn him into Swiss cheese. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     The bodies they’d sent after Smith vanished into thin air and Jones made sure nobody else but him got the trigger. They coincidentally crossed path so he pulled his gun out on Nicky. Joseph Jones would always be the one that killed Mr. Smith. And Nicholas Smith was the one to kill Mr. Jones. Sometimes, they set up the scene as if Jones and Smith had killed each other, or they’d died in a bizarre accident trying to do so. Sometimes, Joe had to shoot Nicky in front of people. Reminded him of the past, Joe had thought. It’s part of their game now. Nicky knew.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     Doesn’t matter if Nicky has a thing for being rescued. Joe is the only one that gets to kill Nicky. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>      So one of these days, either Mr. Smith was getting sloppy or too dangerous, an explanation wouldn’t be needed when Joe swooped in like a white knight, to kill the one that’d threatened Nicky, only then to paint the wall with his lover’s blood, Nicky would just whispered to him in an ancient language: </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     “Take me home, my darling. Bring me back in time to when we buried daggers in each other’s heart. Remind me of the time, when you fell in love with me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     Oh! And he calls Joe the incurable romantic.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Joe contemplated the time Nicky didn't fully understand the meaning of 'habibi' and he didn't understand 'fuck you' (for some reason, a curse.). And as a result, how he almost didn't have a chance to confess his love in a romantic way.<br/>Fun fact: Habibi means 'my love', 'my darling', but can also be used passive agressively, when you're about to punch sbd in the face.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p><p>    As hard as it is to admit, Joe and Nicky was never love at first sight. </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>    No. For the love of everything that somehow deserves Nicky’s overflowing kindness, Joe can’t imagine a world without his Nicky. But it’d be a lie to say, there wasn’t a time when he wouldn’t stab somebody in the eye out of irritation, if they’d say shit like, “One day, you’ll end up with that guy. For eternity.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    For being the undying love of his long life, the creature could live to be insufferable sometimes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    Oh and ‘how bad could it have been?’, you may ask. To put it mildly, he’d say... Like, being visir for decades, waking up one day had to negotiate peace with some crusaders, finding the creature working as a consul for the enemy, after an almost century long wondering if he’s dead or alive. Trying to pretend as if Yusuf didn’t care. Yes. That kind of insufferable. The kind that made him deny dreaming night after night, every time he closed his eyes. There’s a point in his life, Yusuf did just have the urge to grab and shake him, to push him down the floor. There was a time in his life, Joe used to spend his day, trying not to think about a pair of ocean eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    The love of Joe’s life is romantic. (”Of course he is!”) As romantic as killing each other, killing for each other, and dying many gruesome deaths for each other to show one’s affection can be. Yusuf al Kaysani fantasized about confessing under the pale moonlight, and the taste of wine on his lover’s lips and all those poetic things. But love is never easy. The thought makes him shiver, how their love could have been a disaster because of him. But to be fair, Nicolò di Genova hadn’t even bothered to speak Arabic better. So it’s no-one’s place to blame when Yusuf hadn’t updated the insult section in his foreign vocabulary.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>    ‘Fuck you’? What does that mean?... Does he want to fuck? </em>  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    Yes. For some reasons, he, an almost 100-ish literate, was dumb enough to quench the curiosity with a most definitely dumb question:</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You wanna %#@&amp;?“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And thank every god in every religion that they were fighting each other for, Nicolò just rolled his lovely eyes and said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really? Is that everything you got out of this conversation?“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For Yusuf could continue to spend another century or so pining on his ocean eye invader. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    Love is never easy. That’s why they cherish it with their lives and why their is beautiful. Nicky fills his heart with happiness. His Nicky deserves the all the poetic things in this green earth. It was him that gave Joe a chance to do so.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    If asked about the incident, Nicky would deny he’d almost said yes. (”You’re being ridiculous.”). Apparently, it took him a few more years to learn the other meaning of ‘habibi’. But doesn’t matter anymore. Joe wouldn’t want to imagine a world where his moon isn’t the most romantic creature he’s ever seen.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I done fucked up drawing Marwan as hot Jafar, I know. I'm sorry ༼ಢ_ಢ༽</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Inspired by this smol bean by StrikerStiles (◡‿◡✿) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593022</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p>
<p>     "You're not reading."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     "Not tonight, my love. Want to tell me a story?"</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><div class="">
  <p>     "Once upon a time... when nobody knew where the winds that carried the waves to shore had come from,</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I couldn't tell... When had I fallen in love with you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I couldn't remember the sky, bejeweled with stars looking over us.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I couldn't remember how blood and dirt had painted your face. I remember surrendering. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I gave up to your kindness and your eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Death wore me thin. And you asked me for my name.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The night were cold. Your words burned my mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>'Have you ever been in love?'</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>My heart had never known what it wanted. But I knew that I'd fallen for you."</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "Come to bed with me."</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "Is it time?"</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "Yes. You'll be the death of me."</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "Hah... For someone who claims to have an ineloquent tongue, you sure leave me speechless sometimes."</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "You are an incurable romantic."</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "So are you, my love. For me."</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     "Only for you."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Joe wanted the perfect moment to propose but Nicky found the ring first.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Traditionally, Muslim women don't take their husbands' surname. But in modern day, if a wife chooses to take the husband’s surname, then she is not blameworthy and sinful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Some day I wake up, seeing you in the morning sunlight and I wonder... Did I die a thousand deaths so I can have you? In another world, where I only die once, could I have even found you?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     21st December, Joe was hiding in a small shop, watching their target when he heard the news.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    It’s silly. He knows. There’s no need for a ring in his pocket. And there’s no need to bury it under layers of clothes, just for Nicky to find it out so Joe couldn’t stop saying sorry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “Nicky... my Moon!“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “I don’t understand. What on earth are you even hesitating about, amor mio?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to look like myself. Not like this, not while we’re hunting down some human trafficker and spending days at an abandoned building.“ At least to grow his hair and beard out, because he heard how much Nicky complained.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    It’s silly. He knew. Joe just couldn’t help but wanting the world for Nicky.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    Why was he waiting for the perfect moment that would never be more perfect than their first one? Joe hadn’t even got a clue. They’d been each other’s for hundreds of years. He and Nicky had done countless romantic things. The definition of romantic for him had changed from candle lit dinner, long walk on the beach with the night sky pouring silver, to washing blood away from each other’s hair and sleepless night holding his lover. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    2001 wasn’t even the first attempt for marriage like theirs. Spain, Germany, Belgium, Sweden, Norway... Some didn’t succeed. Some with compromises. But every time, Nicky danced with him, humming an ancient song to his ear. His voice was like velvet. They’d never had a wedding. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “It’s sure nice to not having fear of being stoned to death for the way I might be looking at you in public sometimes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    Still... Joe needs every chance to belong to Nicky more than he can fathom, more than they can imagine, more than the world sees them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    But perhaps, there’s no another perfect moment for him. Because nothing can be more perfect than what Nicky had given him, when Joe couldn’t even cry the death of the last one in his family. Yusuf and Nicolò, they forgot them all and were forgotten. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “I can be your family. I can belong to you.“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    Joe can’t remember much. Other than a cold night. And the way wine glistening on Nicky’s lips. Oh! His sweet, innocent and drunk-on-love Nicolò...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “You know some narrative taught that the Prophet said whoever calls himself by other than his father’s name or attributes himself to someone other than his father, is guilty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    “Yes, and my religion said it’s wrong for me to love you. So I don’t care about being cursed or going to hell.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    It’s not just a name. It’s not about being attached to a man.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    <em>You are all. And you are more.</em></p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inspired by this fic here by twoseas, in which Joe headed into all kinds of shenanigan thinking Nicky didn’t know Arabic. (◡‿◡✿): https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207998</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay their looks don't match the timeline but I just can't get over Marwan as Emre Ogan yet. So consider this a Scholar/Teacher AU.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p><p>“Is that part of the poem?”</p><p>
  <em>“Your smiles are starlight </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will strive forever to memorize the constellations crafted from your joy. </em>
</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Even if I should map them all, I know their beauty will never diminish in my eyes.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Sing me a song, sweet Sulayman, and quench me with sweet wine.</p>
  <p>When the bottle comes around, pass it with your hands into mine.</p>
  <p>Look! Morning's in the sky, already its flaxen loincloth shines.</p>
  <p>With cups of comfort wash the call to prayer from my mind.</p>
  <p>Give me some wine to drink in public, then fuck me from behind.”</p>
  <p>
    <em>- Abū Nuwās -  <strong>Wine, Boys and Song</strong></em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>     </p>
  <p>     Yusuf used to tease Nicolò, recite and translate poems, some would consider ‘scandalous’. Yusuf confessed a certain thought with his language, thinking Nicolò didn’t understand him, dizzied with the secret of his heart, drunk on the soft smile from the love of his life.</p>
  <p>     Oh, little did he know!</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And yeah. That's a real classical homoerotic Arabic poem.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The thing that left unsaid.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>~***~</em>
</p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“Stay.“ - <em>I love you.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know where to find you.“ - <em>This is not your cross to bare.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t care. -<em> Can you hear me?</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There are no angels here. All I’ve seen is human cruelty.” - <em>Don’t leave me.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know I can’t die right?“ - <em>I am still here.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How should I know!?“ - <em>The night always brings you with it. How many more times do I have to watch you walk away?</em></p>
  <p>No-one else has killed you before." -<em> I don't want to see you hurt anymore.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It is fine. - <em>Oh the love of my life!</em></p>
  <p>I am still here.<em> - You are my only one.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If you can’t kill me. No-one else has a chance.“ </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/25546234 by firbolg_boyfriends<br/>Please check it out :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>19th Century, a clandestine meeting at dawn at a certain bandstand.</em>
  </p>
  <p>.</p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>~***~</em>
  </p>
  <p>“O Angel, what name shall I call you this time?”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I used to be a priest, you know?”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Was that why I found you wandered the Holy Land healing the wounded, offering prayers to all sides’ fallen for a century?” </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was just looking for you, my sun.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And I thought I was seeing an angel.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“An avenging one?” </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, my sweet Nicolò!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Do you remember, how hard you refused to wear the cross on your tunic? They called you a filthy traitor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I met you with a red cross on your arm.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I had to come back. I needed to find you. I didn’t know where to begin.”  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought it was a trick.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“From me?”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“From our gods. From my mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I should have been braver. A hundred years was too long. This feeling inside me. I should've been courageous. To face my love. To believe in you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Life times being lost.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It must've been a punishment for keeping you waiting for so long.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1859<br/>The War of Italian Unification was raging. Henry Dunant, a Swiss citizen, witnessed the misery of more than 45,000 soldiers abandoned, dead or wounded, on the battlefield, started writing a book proposing drastic improvements in the assistance afforded to war victims.</p><p>1876-1878<br/>During the war between Russia and Turkey, the Ottoman Empire declared that it would use the red crescent on a white background in place of the red cross. While respecting the red cross symbol, the Ottoman authorities believed that the red cross was, by its very nature, offensive to Muslim soldiers. The red crescent was temporarily accepted for the duration of this conflict.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>New updates every 1-2 week (promise I'll try TT.TT)<br/>I also posted these on insta and tumblr. If these are hard to view...<br/>https://leeizzy.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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